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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539546">A Song with No Name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer'>blue_pointer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Study in Gold [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1 gothic human, 2 gnomes, 3 half-elves, Action/Adventure, BAMF Gilmore, Dragon Fight, Four dragons, Gen, Herding Cats, It's not easy being fabulous, Metallic Dragon!Gilmore, Minor Shaun Gilmore/Vax'ildan, Not On Today, Omens, Peter Dickinson's dragon biology, Temporary Character Death, The 12 Days of Critmas, The Hobbit References, Vax is actually fine, and a goliath in a pear tree, and these motherfuckers are just squabbling over a cursed object, dealing with dragons - Freeform, homophobic dwarves, how much is he?, how to curse in Dragon, oh shit, sometimes NPCs are the real heroes, that time Vox Machina ran for their lives, that was a self-read, the Fall of Emon, the downside to disguising yourself as a human, the further adventures of Gilmore, the joys of rescuing people who don't want to be rescued, things that make you go hmmmm, this really happened, when the one you love has a death wish, when you work your ass off, you'll pay for that human</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:47:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,613</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26539546</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember that time Gilmore fought a dragon for Vax and almost died? Yeah, that story.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asum Emring &amp; Shaun Gilmore, Shaun Gilmore &amp; Sherri, Shaun Gilmore &amp; Vox Machina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>A Study in Gold [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. A Sky without Sun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When the Chroma Conclave first descend upon Emon, Gilmore reacts swiftly. But one against four is not good odds.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would honestly like to thank Matt Mercer for leaving a plot window large enough for me to drive this story through.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Uriel had hardly begun to speak when Gilmore felt it, that familiar trembling in his bone marrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. It can’t be. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Hearing a sound undetectable to the human ear, Gilmore’s head snapped up in time to see a Red and a Black, descending in formation upon the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gilmore knew what their primary target would be. “Sound the alarum!” he shouted to the nearest guard, grabbing the man’s wrist hard enough to bruise. “The city is under attack! Dragons!” Gilmore couldn’t wait to see if the guard obeyed his order; he had to act immediately if anyone was to be saved. With one last glance over his shoulder at the heroes waiting by the dais, Gilmore Teleported himself to the palace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sounds of giant claws on stone and roars of intimidation greeted his ears as Gilmore stepped through into the imperial library. He hit the doors at a run, pushing through the chaos of terrified mortals, who had scattered like mice before the cat’s paw. It was difficult to get through the panic as they rushed down the halls everywhere and nowhere at once. When he hit an empty stretch of corridor, Gilmore sprinted toward the imperial quarters, wheezing for air, hoping he was not too late. How had he let himself get to this sad physical state? Running should not be this taxing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Up ahead, he could hear the screams of women and children. “It’s alright,” Gilmore shouted, bursting into the empress’ chambers to find Salda and the children were still unharmed. “Come with me, quickly!” He opened a gateway back to the shop, shoving the royal family through, along with any servants or courtiers he could lay hands on before the portal closed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prepare to Teleport to Westruun,” Gilmore told Sherri, as he stepped through the portal right before it snapped shut. “I have to go back for them.” When Sherri looked confused, Gilmore shouted at her, “Hurry! We’re almost out of time!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He made it back out to the market square just as the Green climbed the wall and announced herself to the terrified crowd. Putting aside the foolish ego that went into presenting one’s name to one’s enemies, Gilmore made a mental note of the verdigris queen’s name: Raishan. Then he watched her inhale deeply for one great poisonous breath, and knew there was only one way. </span>
</p><p><span>Gilmore withdrew the ney</span> <span>from his sleeve, caught the quickest of breaths, and blew, pushing his Arcane power through the wooden instrument. Reaching, grasping and pulling, his entire being stretched out and out until, just when he was sure he would finally tear in two, Gilmore felt the spell click into place. He opened his eyes on a scene frozen in time. </span></p><p>
  <span>Gilmore’s first thought was for Vox Machina, and his beloved Vax. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His heart broke in pieces. They were too far away for him to reach without breaking the spell. And every single one of them but Vex’ahlia’s pet bear were right in the path of Raishan’s toxic breath. Gilmore dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to focus. He would just have to trust that the adventurers’ luck would hold one more time. At least Assum had ensured that Uriel was safely away from all of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Opening a second gate directly to Westruun, Gilmore began shoving frozen people through, moving first to get the children out. When he felt the splitting headache setting in, a sign that he’d kept the Teleport spell open too long, Gilmore began to grab everyone and anyone he could reach, pushing through the pain until the last possible second, unwilling to make the choice of life or death for so many innocent mortals, his fellow citizens in this foreign city he had come to call home. At last, nearly blind with pain, Gilmore reached out for one last little girl at the very edge of the spell radius. And as he did so, he recognized her. It was little Nafisa. Her mother was just a foot too far for him to save without breaking the casting. But he couldn’t do it, Gilmore couldn’t leave her. How could he pluck the child from her mother’s arms and orphan her with a single gesture? Taking a deep breath, Gilmore grabbed the woman’s wrist, feeling the spell shatter as he yanked the three of them back into the rapidly closing portal, and lost consciousness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Vox Machina looked out, speechless, at the scores of fallen bodies that had, just moments before, been standing with them, listening to Uriel. “What about Gilmore?” Vex’ahlia asked in sudden horror, coughing from the poisonous gas they’d just barely survived. “Where is he?” She reached for her brother’s hand, barely able to see him through the blur of tears streaming down her face. “He was right next to us!” But Vax was silent, wearing a grim expression she could not read. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is Gilmore okay?” Keyleth asked, glancing around for any sign of him. Now they were all squinting their eyes in the smoke, searching for that particular shade of blue robe. Percy ran forward to look for Gilmore, but he didn’t make it two steps before he was doubled over, coughing from the noxious fumes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever had happened, it was too late. Vox Machina watched as Raishan launched to a different vantage point, preparing to loose another poisonous breath at the surviving crowd. “Everyone in the shell!” Keyleth shouted, slamming her staff on the ground and casting Anti-Life Shell. “We’re running!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a tense few moments as the entire party sprinted in formation toward the nearest tree. The black dragon’s special guest appearance toward the end nearly stopped some hearts. But finally, all eight of them made it to the portal. Sick and frightened, Vex’ahlia turned to shout back in despair as she ran through the tree to the other side. “Gilmore!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In case you're curious what the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ba53hl1m2DE">Time Stop song</a> might have sounded like.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. A Man with No Nation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>As Greyskull Keep is attacked by Vorugal, Gilmore sneaks back into the palace to try and save what's left of the Tal'Dorei Council. But no good deed goes unpunished.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Gilmore started awake on the packed earth floor of the construction site in Westruun, looking down at the puddle of blood that had served as his pillow. “I think you might’ve overdone it a bit, Shaun,” John, the proprietor of Howarth’s said, looking down at him. Nafisa’s mother knelt beside him, holding out a damp cloth, which Gilmore used to wipe the blood from his nose and goatee. </p><p>“The child?” he asked, gripping her fingers. Then he noticed the little brown arms wrapped around his neck, and a sticky cheek pressed against his jaw. </p><p>“Awake now, uncle?” Nafisa asked at his ear. </p><p>“Nearly,” he told her, patting the girl’s head and passing her back to her mother with a kiss.</p><p>“Mana,” Gilmore muttered to himself, his muscles protesting when he pushed himself to his feet. “Sherri!” Many heads turned toward him at Gilmore’s shout, but Sherri’s was not one of them. “Did the ones from the palace make it?” he wondered aloud, glancing around at what looked to be a random smattering of citizens from Emon. </p><p>“I don’t think so,” John said. “Most of us here are from the Promenade.” </p><p>“Very well, then I’m afraid I’ll need to ask your assistance.” Gilmore could hardly leave his guests unattended. John leaned in, eager to be of use to someone like Gilmore. “And you, my dear.” Gilmore called out to Nafisa’s mother. “Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten your name. Tell me what it is?” </p><p>“Iman, my lord.” She could not seem to stop bowing to him. </p><p>Gilmore smiled. “Of course it is.” He gathered her in one arm and the bar owner in the other. “Can I rely on the both of you to see to everyone while I’m away?” He gave them some coin and quick directions to the nearest sources of food and water. “And send a runner to the bookbinder. Tell Cornelius I sent you, and that there may be dragons on the way from Emon.” </p><p>Walking back to the hole he’d excavated for the future store’s safe, Gilmore reached into his private vault and drew out his reserve vial of mana. He slammed it back, feeling his eyes burn and his heart start pumping full speed as the elixir took effect. “I’ll be back,” Gilmore told the refugees, striding back through what would someday be the storefront. “Stay safe until I return with the others.” </p><p>Much as Gilmore was tempted to find Vax’ildan and ensure that he was safe, the crisis called for less selfish priorities. So instead, he Teleported to the palace again, hoping against hope that there were still survivors. As he stepped across into the sigil room, Gilmore lost his footing and fell hard on one arm. The whole palace was shaking as though it lay in the grasp of an angry earth titan. Pushing himself to his feet, he tripped his way into the hall, where great slabs of stone and marble were crashing down all around him. Hearing a chromatic fighting someone in the distance, Gilmore ran. </p><p>He made it quite a ways without incident or injury, but also without coming across a living survivor. As Gilmore approached the council chamber, a plume of flame just barely missed him. He dodged, slamming back against a pile of rubble, and smelling burning cloth as his brand new robe gently smoked.  “Rude!” he whispered, ducking behind some rubble before the red drake spotted him. </p><p>To his horror, Gilmore saw through to the chamber beyond, where what remained of the Tal’Dorei Council, including Uriel, were gathering their weapons as if they had a snowball’s chance in the Nine Hells against a full grown Red. What were they thinking? He had to stop them. </p><p>As stealthily as possible, which meant crawling over loose rock and rumbling earth on all fours, Gilmore crept toward the council chamber, seeing that they were just about to push into the throne room beyond where, from the sounds of crunching and tortured screams, the Red was busy eating the last of the palace guard. </p><p><em> “Brother!” </em> Gilmore hissed, hoping that his voice might somehow be heard by Assum and not the dragon. 60 feet away, the Seeker turned and spotted Gilmore’s hiding place, wedged into an alcove that had once, ironically, held a sculpture of Bahamut’s shield. Assum signaled the rest of the Council to wait. They held until Gilmore found just the right moment to dash across into the council chamber. “Your highness,” Gilmore whispered as loudly as he dared. “Councilors, I’ve come to Teleport you to safety.”</p><p>“What the hell for?” Brom Goldhand asked, looking annoyed at the prospect of rescue. </p><p>“My friends,” Gilmore did his best to stay calm given the circumstances, but he saw his fear mirrored in the eyes of everyone in the room. “Surely you can see this is not a fight you can hope to win.” </p><p>Goldhand gave him a proud look, squaring his shoulders. “Not everyone runs from the unwinnable fight,” he said, swiping a callused hand across his long moustache.</p><p>“Hear, hear!” the dragonborn Minister of Defense agreed, striking her staff on the floor so that it set off an echo. Gilmore nearly jumped out of his skin, glancing up to see if the murderous beast had heard. </p><p>“I would expect you of all people to know better,” Gilmore hissed, his nerves stretched razor-thin. </p><p>“Why?” Tofur’s eyes narrowed, her nostrils flaring as she considered him. </p><p>“There’s no time,” Uriel interrupted. “If we make our stand here, it will give you a chance to get the rest of the survivors out.” He nodded at Gilmore.</p><p>“But your highness, your family is waiting for you to join them in safety. How can I possibly return to them empty-handed?” Such heartbreak, the decisions mortals made.</p><p>Uriel drew himself up to his full height, putting on all the vestiges of his authority. “Salda will understand. I couldn’t face them if I’d fled while the city burned,” he said, nobly. </p><p>Gilmore looked to Assum, hoping to enlist his voice of reason. <em> “I can’t abandon the emperor,” </em> Assum whispered, reluctantly loading his crossbow. </p><p>Gilmore looked up at the others, imploring them in an urgent whisper. “Friends, please. I beg you to reconsider. Your deaths here will have no meaning. Live to fight another day.” </p><p>“Get on then, ye great ponce!” the dwarf told him. “Leave this job to the real men.” Goldhand readied his greataxe and turned back to the door that led to death incarnate. </p><p>“I don’t take orders from you,” the obstinate dragonborn told Gilmore, stepping up behind Brom. </p><p>“Oh, you most certainly do.” Gilmore said, lightning crackling in his eyes. He was not about to be talked down to by a Silver, especially a dragonborn. Not on today. </p><p>“Both of you,” Uriel stepped in, glancing from Gilmore to Assum. “You have work to do.” Uriel squeezed Gilmore’s shoulder. “Tell them I love them.” </p><p>“For Kraghammer!” Brom shouted, kicking open the door to the throne room.</p><p>“To me. Now, dragonborn!” Gilmore ordered Tofor, his irises momentarily shining golden as he asserted his due dominance.</p><p>She fumed, rooted in place as the dwarf, the emperor, and the other councilors dashed straight into the red drake’s maw in the chamber beyond. “I serve only His Platinum Radiance.” She snapped her teeth at Gilmore, trying her best to resist his command. “Not you.” </p><p>“His Platinum Radiance told me he has other plans for you today,” Gilmore said, throwing one arm around her and the other around Assum. He Teleported them all away as great gouts of dragonfire illuminated the throne room beyond, leaving behind shouts of pain and the sounds of cracking bone. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>They appeared back at the shop in Abdar’s Promenade just in time for Tofor to release a long string of curses against him in Draconic. “We shouldn’t have left him,” Assum said, only marginally more happy with Gilmore for rescuing them than the dragonborn was. </p><p>“Uriel?” Salda sat up as soon as they’d stepped through the Teleportation circle. Gilmore glanced at Assum, needing someone who could break the news gently while he talked with Sherri and found out why the fuck she hadn’t gone to Westruun when he’d told her to. </p><p>“Do not fear, Lady Salda.” Tofor said, stepping forward. “He died well.” Gilmore face-palmed as the children started to cry loudly. </p><p><em> “Let me take care of this,” </em> Assum told him. <em> “Go on, my brother.”  </em></p><p>Gilmore watched to be sure Sherri performed the Teleport spell this time. But the two councilors refused to flee to Westruun, and the royal family was inconsolable, which meant there were still people here in the shop that could become a liability at any moment. Still, they had made their choice. Gilmore couldn’t wait any longer. He had done all he possibly could for the city at this point, short of taking on the red dragon blow for blow. Sometimes herding mortals was worse than herding cats. Gilmore had had his fill. Now he was going to find his people. “Take everyone down to the safe room,” he told Sherri. “If they let you Teleport them to Westruun, go immediately. Otherwise, I’ll be back for you.”</p><p>“Please don’t leave us.” Sherri looked paler than usual, and shaken. “It’s too dangerous out there. Even for you.” </p><p>Gilmore gave her a brief hug. “You can do this,” he told her. “I’m putting you in charge because I know you’ll manage quite well without me.” And with that, he stepped outside. </p><p>Drawing a scarf over his face for protection against the smoke and ash, Gilmore began searching what remained of the cloudtop district for any sign of Vox Machina. The air was still highly toxic and difficult to see through. He conjured a gust of wind to blow it up high, and immediately wished he hadn’t. Corpses lay strewn on the ground as far as the eye could see. Gilmore searched and found many familiar faces, but none belonged to any of the adventurers. Where could they possibly have gone?</p><p>Gilmore dismissed the idea that Vox Machina might have turned tail and run back to their keep on the outskirts of Emon. They were no cowards to flee the city in her time of need.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Grog peed a little as he realized they had no chance against the white dragon’s frost breath. “Fuck this dragon!” he shouted, grabbing up Pike’s bleeding body and dashing for the keep as fast as his goliath legs could carry them. Almost at the doors, he watched Scanlan step outside to fling several more fireballs at the ancient dragon overhead. The flames impacted, but seemed to do very little damage, if any, to the creature. Grog saw Scanlan’s eyes widen in fear, and together they stepped safely back inside the keep. But for how long?</p><p>The dragon reared its neck back, preparing for another attack, but before he could finish, a voice rang out from the direction of the city. <b>Enough! You are not to linger! Follow the others! </b> The white dragon hesitated. <b>Vorugal!</b></p><p>Everyone in the keep felt the impact as the enormous red dragon attacked the white perched on the keep walls, grappling it and throwing it to the ground. Inside the keep, no one moved as the screams and roars of fighting dragons became momentarily deafening outside. </p><p>Finally, the white dragon gave in and flew away, and just when Grog was sure they were all dead, the gigantic red dragon wheeled back in the direction of the city. But he broadcast a message as he flew. <b>Hear me, insects. You that live do so out of mercy. Fight or flee and you forfeit that mercy. Know that your pitiful guardians brought this upon you. That blood is on </b> <b> <em>their</em> </b> <b> hands!</b></p><p>Grog looked around at his friends. Guardians? Was the dragon saying this was their fault? Keyleth’s nose started to turn red, which usually meant she was about to cry. Did that mean the dragon was right?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Crossed a River of Salt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Unable to find Vox Machina anywhere, Gilmore goes to confront Thordak.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Vengeance has been swift, and in its wake, a new age is upon you.</b>
</p><p>Crouched down behind the half-demolished Diamond Nest Tavern, Gilmore rolled his eyes. Reds were such pretentious tossers. </p><p>
  <b>Be thankful, for until now your lives have had no purpose, no meaning. Abandon your gods, your paltry convictions, for now you have a new purpose: to serve me!</b>
</p><p>Something in the demand for worship jarred loose a memory for Gilmore. .<em> ..Thordak? </em> No, that couldn’t possibly be. They had killed him. Gilmore had seen his slain body fall into the Ozmit Sea. </p><p>When the red dragon did not return, Gilmore crawled out of his hiding place and continued to search the city until it grew dark. He looked every place he could think of, asking any survivors he found if they had seen Vox Machina before sending them on to Westruun. Staying in Emon would mean becoming cattle for the Red, and Gilmore would not consign anyone to that fate. But his people--where could they possibly have gone?</p><p>A terrible thought occurred to him. What if Vox Machina had charged straight into danger? What if they had chosen to challenge the red dragon head-on? That would have been frighteningly in character for his beloved Vax’ildan, who seemed at times far too eager to meet his death. </p><p><em> No. </em> </p><p>It was too terrible to think of. What if Scanlan’s devious mind, or Percy’s political one, had come up with the idea of pledging fealty to the Red in order to get close enough to attack? To distract him just long enough for Vax to get in a sneak attack? </p><p><em> No. </em> </p><p>The thought terrified Gilmore, because it was so on-brand for them. The Red had spoken of pitiful guardians. What did that mean? Had Vox Machina already attacked and lost? Was his Vax’ildan even now lying somewhere in the city in a smoldering ditch, losing his life’s blood?</p><p>“What am I doing?” Gilmore asked as he cast Fly on himself and soared over Emon toward the palace. It was suicide, but he had to know. If there was still a chance to save them, he had to do <em> some</em>thing. </p><p>“This is a terrible idea!” Gilmore told himself, stepping carefully through the rubble of what remained of the great entry hall to the palace complex. And yet, his feet kept moving. This time when he entered the throne room, all was quiet. Those few lost souls left alive in the palace knelt before the stairs to the throne, the seat itself having been crushed under the Red’s massive body. His bulk took up half the chamber, but as there was no longer a ceiling to hold him in, the red dragon didn’t seem to mind. </p><p>Gilmore’s heart sank as he stopped and looked closely at his opponent. It <em> was </em> Thordak. Impossible, but true. He would have recognized that snout anywhere, though the Red smelled quite different now to when Gilmore had known him. And how he had grown! It was no wonder Gilmore had not recognized him sooner. Thordak. Now this <em> was </em> Gilmore’s problem, Vox Machina or no Vox Machina. </p><p>Trying his best to appear calm, Gilmore stepped forward. There was now a clear line of sight between himself and the throne; it was only a matter of time before Thordak noticed him. But would he recognize Gilmore? That was the million platinum question. The glamour and magical construct of this mortal body had taken Gilmore years to craft, and it was a prime piece of workmanship though he said so himself. Very few had ever seen past Gilmore’s disguise. But like called to like, and he had never tested it against another of his own kind. </p><p>Moving slowly, he took down his locs, twisted his rings to make certain everything was in order, and triple-checked his defenses. Gilmore could feel the moment when Thordak saw him, the spotlights of his eyes falling with heavy draconic presence on Gilmore’s mortal form. </p><p>“Well,” Thordak said. “What do you have to say for yourself, insect? Do you come to serve or to feed us?” </p><p>“Oh, Thordak the Tremendous!” Gilmore feigned awe, knowing from personal experience how far a good compliment went with a dragon’s ego. “I did not come to fight nor feed you. I only wished to have a look at you and see if you were truly as great as tales say. I did not believe them.” Without taking his eyes away from Thordak’s gaze, Gilmore did his best to search the room for any sign of Vox Machina. They were not among those kneeling.</p><p>“Do you now?” Thordak asked, immediately taken in by Gilmore’s obvious flattery. </p><p>“Truly songs and tales fall utterly short of the reality, O Thordak, Chiefest and Greatest of Calamities!” Gilmore’s peripheral vision searched the bloodied armor and charred bodies in the corner. There was no sign of Vax’ildan or the others, but he bit back a gasp when he spied the emperor’s shield, burned black, and the royal cloak protruding from a mound of bodies. </p><p>Thordak’s eyes narrowed. “You know me, but I don’t seem to remember smelling you before.” That was a great relief to Gilmore, for if Thordak had remembered him, this conversation would already be over. “Who are you and where do you come from?” Thordak asked. “I feel like you should be familiar to me.”</p><p>Gilmore quickly bowed low. “I am but a humble merchant in your newly-acquired city of Emon. I’ve come here, as I said, to see you with my own eyes, and join my friends in your worship.” </p><p>“Then join them,” Thordak said, his short attention span exhausted. “Kneel before me or bring me treasure. I have no use for your words.” </p><p>“Well see,” Gilmore pressed on, “that’s the trouble. I don’t see them here. You wouldn’t happen to recall a motley band of young people--three half-elves, two gnomes, one gothic human and a goliath in a pear tree? They’re colorful; I feel certain you’d remember them.”</p><p>“What are you squealing about?” Thordak turned back to Gilmore, clearly annoyed. </p><p>“One of the half-elves, the male, is about so high with long, dark hair and milk-white skin, pouty mouth, adorable pointed ears... you wouldn’t happen to recall seeing him?”</p><p>Thordak appeared to be considering this. “I do not recollect eating any elves today.” </p><p>“Well, you wouldn’t--nevermind. I’m sure he’s fine.” But was he? Gilmore made the mistake of turning from Thordak’s gaze to once more scan the remains scattered around the throne room. </p><p>Thordak’s serpentine neck extended slowly, moving his head down the stairs toward Gilmore. His 10 foot face came to rest just a few yards from where Gilmore stood; not a good sign. “I’ve not eaten any elves today,” he said, “But I’ve not eaten any of what you are, either.” He took great sniffing whiffs of Gilmore, his hair and robes blowing backwards in the vacuum of wind. “Maybe not ever.” Gilmore watched as Thordak’s catlike pupils dilated to mere slivers of red flame. </p><p>“Think twice,” Gilmore told him. “If you eat me now, there will be no one who can help you sort out that mess in your chest.” Now that Thordak was closer, Gilmore could see a transplanar vibration within the Red’s chest scales, and it did not feel like armor or magic Thordak could have placed there himself. Gilmore looked back at the table-sized eye that was observing him hungrily. “Let me help you, brother,” he said softly. Perhaps this didn’t have to end in violence. Whatever dark magic was at work in Thordak’s body, it was unstable and unnatural: nothing that would end well for him. </p><p>“You are no sibling of mine! Pathetic insect! You dare compare yourself to <b>me</b>?” A predictable reaction. Gilmore wondered if the divergent magic inside his chest was affecting Thordak’s senses, preventing him from seeing through Gilmore’s glamour.</p><p>“I wouldn't presume,” he assured Thordak. “I merely wish to help you.” It was the least he could do after bearing witness to Thordak’s slaying. And if the magic inside Thordak was interfering with his senses, what other damage was it doing? The price for such exchanges of power was always too high. “Will you allow it?” </p><p>“I do not need your help!” Thordak snarled, rising to his feet, his inner bellows causing the fire deep in his belly to flare to life. Gilmore stood his ground, but it was difficult. Things were about to get unpleasant. “Puny human! You presume much.” Did he really have to shout? Gilmore was standing right here. But Thordak seemed to have only one volume: broadcast. “Now die!” </p><p>Gilmore levitated himself out of the way of Thordak’s lashing tail as the Red let loose a great blast of flame right into his face. It was surprisingly powerful, and Gilmore, no stranger to dragonflame, took a moment to shake off the heat of the blast. “I don’t think I will,” he said, flitting through the ceiling to keep clear of Thordak’s teeth and claws. “What are my other options?” </p><p>“Come back here and die!” Thordak roared, coiling his massive body and leaping into the air to give chase. Gilmore watched the chamber below as long as he could, wanting to be sure all those huddled in the throne room below had time to flee to safety.</p><p>“I choose option 2,” he said, flying backwards over the city so as not to lose sight of Thordak. He cast a Lightning Bolt from the clouds of smoke and ash billowing over Emon. But the electrical strikes seemed to just make Thordak angry. </p><p>“You’ll pay for that, human!” </p><p>“Well, how much is he?” Gilmore quipped. Not the time for jokes, no. Definitely not. Which is why he had to. </p><p>Gilmore flew backwards as fast as his magic would allow, leading Thordak on a frantic chase through the night sky above the city. He did his best not to land, for whenever he did, Thordak set another swath of the city on fire, and there were still many survivors hidden in the rubble below. Gilmore did what he could to get in a combat spell here and there, as opportunity allowed, but he knew he could not keep this up forever. </p><p>In spite of his girth, Thordak could fly faster than the spell allowed Gilmore to fly, requiring him to constantly double back and dive within strike range in order to stay ahead of Thordak. And Gilmore was growing tired, his boosted reserves of power draining quickly. Giving up was not an option. Perhaps, if he could keep the dragon distracted just long enough for Vox Machina to escape, or act, to put their plan in motion, whatever it might be. If he could at least do that, then Gilmore’s sacrifice would have been worth something. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>Percy waved a hand, and both skull and tapestry disappeared into the table. “What the fuck was that?” Grog asked.</p><p>“That was a reminder that you should know what you’re dealing with before you touch power,” Percy replied. </p><p>“Can you do magic?” Grog asked, incredulous.</p><p>“Yes. I’m not going to pretend that I always make the best calls. But I at least would like to know its name.” </p><p>“You fucking pussy!” Grog spat. “We have a chance to save this city now--”</p><p>“We have a chance to stop anything worse from happening, or we have a chance to unleash something far worse on it,” Percy argued. “I am a betting man, and this is a bad bet.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, <i>The Hobbit</i>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rode a Ship that Sunk in the Desert</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gilmore vs. Thordak for the fate of Emon.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Equinox, everybody!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>High above the city, a terrifying light show unfolded, the mage a streak of green Arcane power drawing patterns of light across the night sky. Close behind, a relentless engine of fire and brimstone, his red belly glowing with white-hot flames from within, Thordak roared and snapped, trying his best to gain on the little firefly that darted just out of reach. The display was punctuated now and then with magefire and flashes of lightning, but nothing seemed to slow the dragon down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Gilmore was beginning to falter, losing altitude in fits and starts as he did his best to keep out of Thordak’s strike range. So far, he had borne the dragonflame alright. It was hotter than it should have been from the primordial magic that was affecting Thordak, but Gilmore was not taking any damage from it by his count. That was one small victory, at least.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why won’t you die!?” Thordak roared, refusing to give up even though he had been pursuing this one tiny insect unsuccessfully for several minutes with all of Emon watching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing the end approaching, Gilmore calculated his chances against Thordak if he were to reveal his true form now. He was bound by his own disguise. Emerging was a transformational process, not an instantaneous affect. It took energy to perform, and Gilmore was tired. Working this much magic at such a high level was a drain of his spiritual power, whatever form he wore. Not to mention that Gilmore had always been more of a lover than a fighter. No, taking Thordak claw for claw now would not be to his advantage. Grim as the result would be, Gilmore would just have to take his lumps. He’d known the risks when he’d entered the throne room tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if to underscore his decision, Gilmore felt himself hit the wall, that point of no reserves a mage dreads reaching, much less when being chased by a full grown dragon. “Vax’ildan!” he shouted, desperate, nearly grazing the temple of Sarenrae’s spire as Gilmore began to unwillingly descend in the temple district. This chase was about to come to an abrupt and bloody end. If only he could have a sign that his lovely boy was safe... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vax’ildan?” Thordak said, quickly gaining on him. “I remember him. I used his blades to pick my teeth after I crushed his skull between my jaws!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Exhausted, Gilmore felt his own fire roar to life in his guts. Eyes glowing golden, he cursed Thordak in Draconic. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Abomination! You should have never hatched!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>For a moment, Thordak seemed to recognize him, as he finally drew close enough to snatch Gilmore out of the air and crush him in his talons. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Traitor!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He flew high, drenching Gilmore at point blank range with flame and bile. For the first time, Gilmore felt the heat of it as mortals must, his robe shrinking and burning against his flesh. It was excruciating. His nerve-endings screaming, Gilmore could smell the distinct odor of burned hair. This mortal form had reached its breaking point. And though Gilmore knew his true self would recover, survive, he would miss this small human life he had carved out for himself. Perhaps it was better this way, if Thordak was telling the truth about Vax’ildan. Poetic that they should end together.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gilmore opened his eyes, his body trembling in shock from the blast of dragonfire. It took effort to get the words out, and the taunt emerged as a whisper through cracked vocal chords. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ll have to do better than that, wyrmling.”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>With a roar of frustration, Thordak’s jaws snapped down on Gilmore’s head and shoulders, meaning to decapitate him. With his last bit of strength, Gilmore jammed his palm into the dragon’s soft palate, releasing a Lightning Bolt into his Thor-thimble, critically electrocuting Thordak, and taking away his ability to breathe fire for at least the next 24 hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Screeching with pain, his jaws momentarily locked shut from the lightning damage, Thordak struggled to pry the thing that was hurting him out of his mouth. He stuck one massive claw into Gilmore’s body and tore, jaws finally opening just enough to fling the mage away before he could cast any more spells. Belching mountains of black smoke and struggling to stay aloft, Thordak turned tail and flew back to the palace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unfortunately, that left Gilmore plummeting toward Emon from 2000 feet, trailing ribbons of blood like an ineffective parachute. His wounds opened wider still as Gilmore’s etheric body expanded from inside him, trying to catch his fall. It was disorienting, feeling his body both speeding toward the ground and stretching up to catch himself from hundreds of feet below. As soon as his physical and etheric bodies collided, Gilmore lost consciousness, and there was only silence.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you're not familiar with Peter Dickinson's speculative evolution thesis: <i>The Flight of Dragons</i>, I recommend adding it to your reading list.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. There Is Nothing that I Wouldn't Give</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Vox Machina turns in for the night and Gilmore dies.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“He’s dead?” Vax mouthed to Keyleth, unable to speak the words aloud. </p><p>“I don’t know. It’s hard to say.” She had mixed feelings where Gilmore was concerned, and that didn’t help with scrying.</p><p>Needing to think of a way Gilmore might still be alive, Vax started throwing out options. “He could have gone to the harbor. He could have fled through the tunnels. We don’t even know.” But there was an uncomfortable feeling clawing at the back of his throat, and he refused to examine it.</p><p>“He could have a Teleportation Circle,” Vex’ahlia suggested.</p><p>“We should check his shop first,” Keyleth said. But as usual, everyone had a different opinion on what they should do next, and spoke all at once. Finally Keyleth cut through the cross-talk. “How about this? Let’s find Gilmore. If he’s alive or dead, then that will answer a lot of questions. How’s that?” </p><p>“I agree,” Vax said, coming to terms with it perhaps too swiftly. </p><p>“Yes,” Percy said. </p><p>“And…” Vax continued, with the confidence of the king of denial, “if he did not make it, we still go to his shop…”</p><p>“Take everything,” Scanlan finished.</p><p>“Use whatever’s left,” Vax agreed. “It’s what Gilmore would want.” Grog sniggered, imagining that Gilmore’s last wish would probably have been more along the lines of sexual favors from certain half-elf man-boys.  </p><p>“It’s true,” Scanlan said. </p><p>“I agree,” Grog agreed. Sitting still was not his style. </p><p>“Seconded,” Percy said.</p><p>“We go then, if it hasn’t been ransacked already,” Vex’ahlia chimed in, visions of free magical items dancing in her head. </p><p>“Let’s go find that magic fucker!” Grog said, turning toward the door.</p><p>“So we’re going now? Tonight?” Keyleth asked, tired but unwilling to say no if everyone else thought it was the best decision. </p><p>“Sleep and then go,” Percy amended.</p><p>“I don’t know, maybe we should go,” Keyleth said, feeling bad. What if Gilmore had felt so weak because he was lying somewhere, dying? What if they could save him if they left right now?</p><p>Then everyone started to speak at once, debating if they should rest first or go now. Vax’s voice rose above the others, “Thordak is expecting to sit on us like a bunch of eggs in a basket. We’re fine for the night. We go in the morning.” </p><p>“Okay.” Keyleth accepted his decision. Not because she still felt conflicted where her former rival was concerned. But because Vax had always cared about Gilmore a little more than the rest of them. And if he was choosing to wait and rest, to take the chance Gilmore would be dead when they found him tomorrow, she would respect that.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>*</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Half the city had borne witness to Gilmore’s battle with Thordak, and now watched in horror as the mage plummeted toward the earth like a shooting star. His body came down in the middle of the bazaar, carts and merchandise exploding skyward as the momentum of Gilmore’s descent carved a deep channel through the cobblestones into the earth below, throwing up a giant cloud of dust. </p><p>Once it began to clear, more than a few survivors came out of hiding to search for Gilmore’s body, or what was left of it. Telling the empress and the children to get back into the safe room, Sherri sprinted across the wreckage of the bazaar toward the crater that Gilmore had made when he fell to earth, Assum close behind her. She rushed to the bloody pile of velvet and searched for a pulse, any sign Gilmore was still alive. But his umber skin was ashen, and it did not look like he was breathing. “No, no, no!”</p><p>Beside her, Assum knelt down and cast Cure Wounds with all his remaining strength. Suddenly, Gilmore’s crumpled body gasped and began to breathe. “Oh thank gods!” Sherri broke down. “Oh thank gods, he’s alive!” </p><p>“Not for long if we don’t see to these wounds,” Assum said grimly. The small crowd of locals came forward to offer aid, providing Assum with strips of cloth and water to administer first aid. The butcher put pressure on the gaping wound in Gilmore’s belly to slow the bleeding as Assum did what he could. Then four men volunteered to carry Gilmore back to the ruin of the shop. Sherri was grateful. She and the aging halfling could not have done it by themselves. </p><p>When the imperial children saw Gilmore’s critical state, they started to cry and panic again. Salda did her best to comfort them, but she was so drained herself. “What now?” she asked Assum, who looked to Sherri. Gilmore had left her in charge, after all. </p><p>“I can’t cast Teleport again without sleeping first.” She shook her head. “I don’t think it would be safe to move him right now anyway.” </p><p>“Then I will help Tofor search for survivors, and perhaps find a healing potion along the way,” Assum said. </p><p>“Please don’t go,” Salda begged him, near the end of her rope. “We need you here.” </p><p>Assum hesitated, looking over her shoulder at the blood seeping into the packed earth floor beneath Gilmore’s unconscious body. “I won’t be gone long,” he promised. </p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>The scorched and crumbling second floor of Gilmore’s Glorious Goods collapsed onto the secret hatch some time during the night. Sherri tried to push it open, but the debris was far too heavy. They would just have to rely on the Teleportation Circle in the safe room, and make do without Assum’s and Minister Brotoras' aid. If only she could rest. Knowing that Gilmore’s life depended on her now made it very hard to sleep.</p>
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